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A Book of Letters Ch. 01

By: personalsecretarytobias



Alex Gentry looked out the window of his third story office. It was a warm Friday evening in September, but the first signs of fall were encroaching into the leaves of the maple tree just outside his window. He was trying to decide if the changing leaves were a shade of orange or red, when it occurred to him that they were neither. Coral, he decided. Yes, definitely coral. 

Alex loved that tree. From the buds of spring, the lush canopy of summer, and the shifting colors of fall, he reveled in the reminder that nothing remained static, that life itself spilled from one season to the next. Even the indolence of the tree in winter, as it quietly fought for survival against the wind and cold, reminded Alex of his own skirmishes with life. 

As he stared at the leaves, it occurred to Alex that he was bored. He had spent a long day pouring over and adjusting schematics for an apartment building he was designing. Alex had been a partner in a mid-sized architectural firm for over twelve years. At 45 years of age, Alex had accomplished much in life. A degree from a highly-rated university, a marriage to his beautiful college girlfriend, professional jobs with increasingly greater responsibility, and finally partnership in the firm. 

Although his marriage had dissolved a few years earlier, Alex had found solace in a few girlfriends. None of these relationships had taken root, but Alex had grown into his single status and felt largely content. Alex was currently single, his last girlfriend having broken it off months earlier upon realizing that Alex was in no hurry to settle down. 

Alex observed that two cars remained in the parking lot next to his tree. Alex's own car was the red convertible Jaguar. Having achieved a degree of financial security, Alex permitted himself the occasional splurge. Alex had discovered this car useful in attracting some of his more materialistic women friends since the divorce. Alex's mind skipped briefly to a blow-job he had received two months earlier while sitting in the driver's seat from a leggy brunette he had met at a dinner party. He thought briefly about that encounter with Veronica. Alex decided in a momentary flashback of lust that Veronica had known what she was doing, as he recalled her full red lips and her hungry mouth. 

Alex shook the memory of this encounter from his head and noticed that the remaining car was an older model Acura, which was showing its years. Alex did not recognize the car and wondered who was still at work since the office usually cleared out quickly on Fridays. Abandoning this puzzle, he turned away from the window, his focus going back to the drawings on his over-sized computer screen. 

Alex worked on his plans for another hour. He had become engrossed in his project and had not noticed the earth continuing its rotation, the early fall sun fading to dusk. By the time he looked up, dusk had become darkness. The only light remaining was the glow from his computer screen, the faint glimmer of streetlamps outside his window, and the fluorescent hall lights. As Alex packed his briefcase and prepared to leave, his mind returned to that evening with Veronica. 

The dinner party had been a somewhat dull affair, largely married couples indulging in too much cheap wine, droning on about their over-achieving kids. Alex had been invited to attend by one of his senior partner's wives, who believed Alex spent too much time alone since the divorce, not knowing about his string of girlfriends. The night would have been a total loss but for two lucky events. Alex's partner, Rich, had opened a superb bottle of 21-year-old single malt scotch for the occasion. And Veronica, Rich's 21-year-old daughter, was home from college for the weekend. 

Alex knew the spirit of the evening was taking a significant turn for the better when Veronica, who had been sitting across the table from him at dinner, flashed him a smile that would have buckled his knees had he been standing. Alex had been pouring on the charm with Veronica all night, not expecting anything to come from it. Although Alex was 20-plus years older, he had a certain energy in social settings, which, combined with his generally youthful appearance and sense of style, lent itself to attracting younger women. And, the Jaguar did not hurt. 

After dinner, all of the guests moved outside, where the hosts had a lovely bar and seating area. Alex watched Veronica walk from the table to the patio door. He figured she must have been five foot six or seven, but with her three-inch, red, ankle-strap heels, she looked taller. Her long, dark hair flowed over her shoulders and down several inches below the neck-line of her dress. Veronica's calves were firm, leading up the back of her well-tanned legs, and at least three inches of beautiful thigh showing under the hem of her flared summer dress. Alex could not help but feel aroused by this girl, despite the age difference, and that smile she had just given him suggested the feeling might not go to waste. 

On the patio, Alex sat next to Veronica and finished two tumblers of scotch. Veronica sipped her own glass of whiskey while Alex peppered her with questions about school and her parents. Occasionally, Veronica would run her finger tip along the edge of her glass, then slowly move the red-painted nail to her lips, lightly drawing the whiskey onto her tongue. Neither the hosts - Veronica's parents - nor the other guests noticed the sexual tension rising between Alex and Veronica, apparently too engrossed in their own wine-soaked conversations. Alex's state of arousal never quite left him during all of this, and indeed, the more Veronica talked, and the more she looked at him with her beautiful face and red lips, the harder his cock pressed against the leg of his pants. 

Finally, Veronica rose from her seat, and stood in front of Alex for about 10 seconds, which felt to Alex like 10 minutes, her eyes burning into his. She looked down at the bulge pressing against his pants. Veronica flashed that electric smile again and, saying nothing, turned and entered the house. Alex followed, about 30 seconds behind her so as to not arouse the attention of anyone else. When Alex entered the house, he heard the click of heels on the hard wood floors, and he followed the sound. Turning a corner, Veronica was standing in a hallway, leaning slightly against the wall, her left foot lifted and her heel pressed lightly into the softly-painted drywall. Alex looked for a moment into Veronica's lavender-colored eyes. Then, he fell on her. 

His hands immediately went to her waist, and Alex pressed his lips into hers, slipping his tongue into her waiting mouth, meeting her moist, urgent tongue. Alex pulled her by the waist into him, Veronica's flat mid-section meeting his groin, only a few layers of fabric separating his skin from hers. Alex let out a small sigh as the pressure of her warm body provided some relief to pressure from his throbbing cock. His right hand slipped down to the hem of Veronica's dress, pulling it up slightly. With his left hand holding her firmly to his body, and his tongue buried in her mouth, Alex brought his right hand around to the lacy edge of Veronica's panties. He could feel the heat coming off of her. 

Sensing no resistance to his advances, Alex slipped his index finger under Veronica's panties, and he pressed it against her moist pussy, searching it, probing for the right spot. Veronica became more frantic with her mouth, and Alex found her hole, roughly pushing his finger deep into her. Her lips pulled back from his, and she let out a low, guttural moan. Alex pushed a second finger in, and began stroking her, pumping her with two fingers, wasting no time. Veronica threw her head back, closing her eyes, allowing him to stroke her for a few moments. Then, abruptly, she pushed him away, saying only, "Let's go." 

Alex followed her down the hall and out the front door, almost running to keep up with her pace. He caught up and led her to the passenger door of his car, opening the door as she slipped in, her movements feline, quick and agile. Alex jogged to the other side of the Jaguar, and jumped in, not bothering to open his own door. As the car's engine fired, the motor purring, Veronica told Alex, "wait," then she leaned over and began unbuckling Alex's belt, kissing and nipping the top of his chest with her teeth through the opening of his shirt. She unzipped his pants and pulled them and his underwear to his knees in one, semi-graceful movement. Veronica caught her first glimpse of Alex's six-inch cock as it sprang out of his underwear to meet her warm, waiting hand. 

"Ok, you can go," she whispered into his ear, leaning her upper body into him. Alex felt the press of her firm 21-year-old tits brushing against his shoulder as he backed the Jaguar out of the driveway. As he sped down the neighborhood streets, Veronica slowly stroked Alex's cock with her right hand, leaning over the console as far as her body would permit. Alex caught a glimpse of her red-painted nails as her hand cupped the head of his manhood, and then again as she slowly moved down his shaft to the base, then up again. Veronica moved slowly at first, edging him, teasing him with the warmth of her hand, her red-nails lightly brushing his shaft as she stroked him. Her face was turned into his as she leaned over, and occasionally she would brush her lips against his, and Alex could taste the sweet mix of her lip gloss and fine whiskey. 

When they made it to a busy thoroughfare, Veronica slowly dipped her head into Alex's lap. He felt Veronica's soft hair fall forward onto his thighs, and she brushed the head of his cock with her lips. At first Veronica slowly licked around the sensitive glans, but after only a few seconds, Veronica's mouth engulfed him in one swift movement. Alex could feel his cock hit the back of her throat for the first time. As the breeze blew through Alex's hair, Veronica's hot little mouth enveloped him, alternating between deep, quick thrusts into her throat, and then a slow, almost tortuous withdrawal, Veronica's tongue constantly stroking him. 

The feel of Veronica's hair on his thighs, and the occasional view of her red-painted hand on the base of his cock, while her mouth alternated between enveloping him and kissing his head, was beyond erotic. Alex was near to bursting, but then, Veronica did something totally unexpected. 

In his experience, the younger the girl, the less adventurous. It was simple math; more years, more experience with sex. The one girl in her late 20s that Alex had been with since his divorce had been fairly conservative in her sexual behavior. Yes, modern, younger women were familiar with the art of the blowjob, and they might even know three or four sexual positions. But, that was pretty much the extent of it. 

Veronica, however, was apparently the exception to the rule. As Alex slipped close to his orgasm, Veronica moved the hand that had been controlling his shaft from the base of his cock down to his ass. And then, as she continued taking his cock into her throat, followed by a slow withdrawal, Veronica gently probed Alex's ass, and finding what she wanted, she slowly slipped a soft finger inside of Alex's tight asshole. When she hit his prostate, it was all over for Alex; he exploded into Veronica's mouth. The first rope of cum was so intense, Alex almost ran the Jaguar into a car parked on the side of the road, as his body jerked from the explosion and his eyes briefly rolled back into his head. Alex regained a little control as the second and third ropes fired from his cock. Veronica, apparently no stranger to the experience, stayed right where she was as a full load of cum quickly entered her mouth and throat, and she swallowed it all while continuing to stroke Alex with her tongue. Finally, when Alex was spent, after his cock had tensed and released for the last time, Veronica slipped her finger out of his ass, and rose upright into her seat. She gave Alex a wicked little smile as she swallowed the last of his cum. 

Two months later, Alex was sitting in his chair at his desk as he remembered that evening. Recalling it, his cock had sprung to life, and getting some relief was not going to wait until he got himself home. Alex moved to his office door, closing and locking it. He returned to the window, looking into the parking lot one last time, seeing both his Jaguar and the Acura, then he turned down the blinds. Alex unbuttoned his pants, reached for his cock, and began masturbating with urgency. 

As he quickly stroked his own shaft, Alex's mind turned back to Veronica. Of course, he had fucked her several times that night when they had arrived at his apartment. Her 21-year-old pussy had been a dream - soft and tight, but not too tight. But as he jerked his cock in front of his computer, Alex's memory kept returning to the feel of Veronica's hair on his thighs, his cock filling her throat, and her finger hitting his prostate. 

Finally, Alex came hard. As he held his weight with his left hand on the desk, his right hand continued pumping, shooting rope after rope of cum onto the desk in front of his computer. Despite the general lack of control in the moment of apex, Alex did his best to keep the cum off the keyboard and his computer screen. After finishing, Alex whispered "fuck," to himself, trying to figure out where he was going to get a towel to clean up the mess, not having had the foresight to plan for this in his moment of compulsion. 

Alex turned away from the computer screen, and pulled his pants up. Luckily, Alex had managed to keep the cum off of his hand. The last remaining cum dribbling from the tip of his cock was wiped away onto his underwear. Alex moved to the door of his office, quietly unlocking it and cracking it open. He peered out into the cubicles in the center of the office, and around the exterior wall of offices, looking for any odd lighting that would suggest someone was out there. Waiting a few minutes, seeing and hearing nothing, he pulled the door of his office closed, hoping the janitor would not show up while he walked to the bathroom for some paper towels. 

Alex made it to the bathroom, washed his hands, and grabbed a stack of paper towels. Seeing no one in the office, he began feeling steadily more comfortable that he was in fact alone. Returning to his office, Alex opened the door, not noticing at first the change in the room, a change that was about to transform his life, moving him to the next season, a season he would later refer to simply as "Coral." 

Alex walked around his desk and was about to use the paper towels to begin cleaning the mess of semen, when he saw it. His heart skipped a beat and the paper towels slipped out of his hand onto the floor. Alex's computer screen, which had previously been filled with a large architectural plan, had gone black, but with one large sentence in block letters. If the inanimate words had sound, they would have been shouting at him: "Alex, You Have Been Naughty." 

Alex's heart raced and his eyes darted around the room, half-expecting to see someone lurking in the corner of his office. Seeing no one, he stood silent for a moment, listening for sound outside his office, but the only sound was the pounding of his heart in his chest. Composing himself, Alex walked gingerly toward the door, and put his ear against it. Again, no sound. Reaching for the door handle, he slowly turned it, cracking the door open, and he peered outside, scanning the room, looking for any sign of life. Nothing but empty cubicles, the soft buzzing of fluorescent lights, and the white noise of an air handling unit. Alex softly closed the door and walked back around his desk. 

Alex looked back at the computer screen, and in addition to the primary message, he noted for the first time, a second sentence, in smaller letters at the bottom of the screen. It said simply, "Click Here." 

Alex stood looking at the computer screen for what must have been 10 minutes. He wondered why the screen was not reverting to his relic of technological nostalgia, the flying toasters screen saver. He continued standing, waiting for the screen to turn, wondering if perhaps he were having some kind of bizarre dream. Nothing happened; just the words - "Alex, You Have Been Naughty" - continuing their silent reproach, and the invitation to "Click Here," waiting below. Sitting below these words on the desk, waiting to be cleaned, a load of his own semen. Alex's heartbeat slowed, and his mind gradually became less clouded. Alex picked the paper towels up from the floor and wiped his cum off the desk, feeling somewhat disgusted with himself. 

Finally, as he was cleaning, Alex remembered the car, the beat-up Acura. He threw the dirty towels in his trash can, then turned to his left and opened the window blinds. The parking lot now stood empty but for his waiting Jaguar. Alex was not sure what to make of the missing car. He turned back to the computer screen. Now, he had to decide whether to follow the instructions to "Click Here." 

Alex's mind worked through the possibilities. This could be some kind of strange virus or outside program that had taken over his computer. But the use of his name and the timing of the message told him that it was not; simply too coincidental. He also considered whether to just ignore the message, shut his computer down, and go home. Maybe it was just someone's idea of a practical joke. Maybe no one actually saw him masturbating, and it was simply his guilty conscience talking to him. But it did not feel like a practical joke, it felt secret, conspiratorial, even intimate. Something about the message made Alex feel like this person really knew him, that it was no joke, and that he should in fact, "Click Here." So, he decided. Alex reached toward his mouse, moved the cursor to the right spot, and clicked. 

The media player came to life, and a video began playing on the screen. A silent title appeared, and it said only, "Hi, Alex Gentry." The screen morphed into the next, which was simply a picture of Alex, outside his office door, wearing a suit. It appeared to have been taken some months ago, and Alex was neither smiling nor posing, suggesting he did not know the picture was being taken at the time. Alex currently had a beard, and in this picture, he was clean-shaven. The vague hope that this message was some type of mistake, not really meant for him, vanished from Alex's mind. 

The screen shifted from the picture of Alex, to another written message, "I've Been Watching You Alex." Alex's discomfort shifted to fear. A hormone rush hit him, and he quickly glanced out the window. Only his car remained in the parking lot. Seeing only the Jaguar this time did not feel quite as good. He felt alone and vulnerable. Perhaps anticipating this response, the inanimate narrator changed the screen again, with a new message, "Oh, Relax. I'm Not Going to Hurt You, Alex." Alex did not relax. 

Now, the screen shifted to action. It was a video of Alex. From earlier that evening. The view of his office was quite clear. Alex's diploma was on the wall in the background. Family photos sat on the credenza below it. There was Alex, unbuckling his pants. Alex, reaching for his cock. Alex, with his hard cock in his right hand, pumping. Alex's face twisting a little strangely, and cum pumping out, toward the invisible camera. 

As Alex watched this video, he could feel his face flush with embarrassment. It made him feel like a teenager again, spanking his monkey in the bathroom, only to have his mom burst in so she could put away the goddamned towels. But then his embarrassment began to mutate into anger. Alex felt violated by this invasion of his privacy. Alex sat stunned and angry, watching the screen, as the video looped back again to him unbuckling his pants, but this time as it replayed, it culminated in a slow motion shot of Alex's right hand stroking his own shaft, and then his seed shooting onto the desk, one milky, slow-action stream after another. Alex then stood and scanned the area with his eyes, searching for the hidden camera. His computer had no video cam, but there was a camera somewhere. Then, the screen shifted again. 


A Book of Letters Ch. 01



A written message: "I Know What You are Thinking, Alex. Where's the Camera, Right?" Alex was taken aback, and he immediately slumped back into the chair. His head was spinning, his thoughts racing. The screen shifted: "Don't Bother Looking. Open Your Locked Desk Drawer. But First, Watch This." Another video began playing. About three minutes into this next video, Alex's anger, his fear, his embarrassment, the swirl of emotions that had been vibrating through him, all slipped away. Alex's mind fractured, and he slipped into a senseless state, somewhere beyond stunned. The only thought he could muster as he watched the video, turning over and over in his brain, "what the fuck, what the fuck, . . . ." 

The video started with a scene outside his senior partner's house, the site of the dinner party with Veronica. It was still daylight outside the house, and a few cars were in the driveway. Alex recognized a few of the guests approaching the door to the house, his partner Rich greeting them. There was no sound in this video. It had an almost grainy feel to it, like it had been taken with a Super 8 camera, rather than the kind of high-quality, high-definition video you can take with most modern smart phones. Still, the video was clear enough. 

The video cuts to a scene of Alex pulling into the driveway, the Jaguar's top down. Alex stepping out of the car, tucking his sunglasses into his sports coat pocket as he approaches the door, a bottle of wine in hand. Alex stepping into the house. 

Then, the video cuts to a scene of Veronica, in what appears to be a bedroom. She is wearing only a low-cut bra and white panties. She is standing in front of a mirror, appearing to admire her own body. Her hands, fingernails painted red, slowly moving from the bottom of her breasts, and caressing her flat stomach. Alex realizes that she is wearing the same white, lace-edged panties she was wearing the night Alex fucked her. The video then cuts to Veronica slipping into her summer dress, after which she sits on the bed to put on her red, ankle-strap heels. 

Veronica then stands up, and for the first time, she turns and looks directly at the camera. At first, Alex cannot tell whether she knows the camera is there. But then Alex can see her mouth moving, as if she is saying something, or trying to say something, into the camera. Alex cannot make it out, the image is too grainy and the lighting in the bedroom is too low from this distance. 

The video cuts again, and now Veronica is standing right in front of the camera, her face filling the frame. Alex can see she is wearing the same shade of lip gloss from that night. She moves her face forward and puckers her lips, as if to kiss the camera, then moves back. Her lips are moving again. Alex thinks he has it figured out, what Veronica is saying, and his heart stops. The camera pans back to the bed, and a sheet of paper rests on it. The camera zooms in to the paper; there is writing, it reads simply, "Hi, Alex." Below the words, a drawing of a smiley face. 

The video cuts to the dinner at the table. Veronica is sitting across from Alex. Veronica is periodically throwing her head back, laughing, as Alex smiles at her, obviously putting on his best charm offensive. Then, Alex briefly turns to his left to speak to another guest, his attention drawn away from Veronica. In that moment, Veronica turns her head away from the table, toward the hidden camera, and mouths the words, "Hi, Alex." 

The next scene is in the hallway. Alex has his hand up Veronica's dress, fingering her hot pussy, with his tongue in her mouth. Stroking her. The video cuts again, now to the Jaguar. The lighting is dim, but the camera clearly shows Alex's face, and then it pans down to Veronica, her mouth full of Alex's cock, and her finger in his ass. It is clear Alex is cumming, and as she withdraws her finger from his ass, Veronica actually turns her head toward the camera for a second and winks, slightly opening her lips to show a mouthful of fresh cum. 

A new scene, Alex's bedroom. Veronica is standing in her red heels at the end of the bed, naked, the upper half of her tight body bent over, her tits pressing into the covers, her hair spread over a pillow. Her face is alternating between biting a pillow, and looking right to the hidden camera. The camera zooms out and shows Alex, balls deep inside the tight, 21-year-old pussy of his senior partner's daughter, fucking her. It's not a gentle fuck. The final shot, Veronica in Alex's kitchen, alone, having a cup of coffee. It appears to be the next morning. Veronica looks right at the camera, and mouths, "Hi, Alex." 

The video ends. His mind momentarily broken, Alex sat in his chair, staring at his computer screen. After a minute or so, the following words appear: "Don't Forget to Open Your Locked Desk Drawer. The End." Alex stared at the words, unable to think, slowly repeating to himself his new mantra, "what the fuck . . . ." After a few minutes his computer screen returns to its normal state, Alex's architectural drawings still there, waiting for him. 

Alex sat. The shock eventually wore off, and Alex's mind becomes a swirl of emotions again, rather than the sea of nothingness it had momentarily become. Alex fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his key ring. His hands were shaking. He finds the key to his desk drawer, the only one that is ever locked, where he keeps his most important papers and personal belongings. "No one else has this key," Alex thought to himself. He bent down and unlocked the drawer, but did not open it, just staring at it, trying to think. He keeps seeing Veronica's lips moving, "Hi, Alex; Hi, Alex; Hi, Alex." He mustered all of his courage and opened the drawer. 

Alex stared for a moment and then began pulling out the four items he knows have been left for him, only one of which he is sure he has never seen. The unfamiliar item, a thick leather-bound book, tied shut with a pink ribbon. The familiar items: a bottle of 21-year-old single malt scotch, not full, but with at least three or four good-sized drinks remaining; a glass tumbler, the top of which is smeared with lip gloss; and a pair of clean, white, lace-edged panties. 

Alex felt sure the panties are the same pair Veronica wore that night, or at least a matching pair. He also felt confident that the glass and scotch are remnants from the dinner party. The tumbler appeared to be the same one Veronica used, the same one she circled with the tips of her nails around as she seduced him. 

As Alex examined the items, the brief flash of memory of Veronica's mannerisms that night, tore an immense hole in Alex's considerable ego. Alex had felt so good about himself in the weeks that had passed since his encounter with Veronica. Yes, he had known it was a one-night stand, but he had really believed his own charm had reeled in Veronica. But the converse was true, of course; it was all a set-up, some kind of cruel joke on the middle-aged architect with his ridiculous car. For the first time, the immensity of what a fool he has been asserted itself. 

Feeling ashamed, and stupid, Alex opened the bottle of scotch and poured himself a stiff drink. He took a swallow, and the burn in his throat and stomach helped to lighten his mood. He turned his attention to the journal. The leather is a rich brown, and it appears aged but of high quality. Alex picked up the book and turned it over in his hands, noticing the pages' deckled edge. The pink ribbon binding the pages together was tied into a bow. Alex thought this odd, the contrast between the ribbon, with its pink color and girlish bow, and the otherwise virile nature of the leather. Alex took another drink of the scotch, steeling himself. He untied the ribbon and opened the book. 

It was not really a book, but a journal. He flipped through it and found mostly empty pages, but then two pictures fell from between the pages. Alex looked at them and the blood rushed from his face. He turned back to the words on the first page, the very first words in this journal: "Hi, Alex." Alex sucked in his breath, and continued reading. 

The words were handwritten, in a cursive script. The writing had a light and airy style, confident but almost like it had been written by a teenager. Alex felt certain that it was the writing of a female, and thought at first maybe it was Veronica writing him. But the vague sense of hope, that perhaps Veronica had liked him and that this was just her attempt at humor, quickly vanished as he read. 

The first letter: 

Hi, Alex. Wow, I bet you are wondering right now what all of this is about?! You and I have so much to talk about. There is so much to do. But, we can't do it all at once, can we? 

The first thing you need to know, Alex, is that I am your teacher. I am going to teach you so many things. And there are two lessons you will begin learning with this letter. The words of the day, so to speak. Respect. That is word number one. Patience. That is word number two. Always remember these two words. 

But where are my manners? You probably want to know more about me. You can call me Miss Becca. In fact, I insist that you call me Miss Becca. Respect, part of your first lesson, requires that you call me Miss Becca whenever you address me. Please remember that. I cannot overemphasize the importance of you respecting our teacher-student relationship. 

You do not know me, Alex. I know that sharp mind of yours is busily working, trying to figure it out. You probably thought (or at least were hoping!) that I was Veronica. Veronica is a sweet girl, but she is involved only because she owed me a favor, a big one as it turns out. I may tell you more of that story later, but for now, all you need to know is that I am not Veronica. 

You do not know me, but I know you Alex. I know you very well. You see, I have been watching you for a long time. I know your nature. I know your soul and your secrets. I know what you are today, what you have been in the past, and what you will be in the future. I know everything. And, I am here to teach you, so you can be true to yourself, so you can be the real Alex. 

Why do I want to teach you, you ask? Word number two, Alex. Patience. There is so much to do, and so much to say. So much to teach, and so much to learn. So have patience my little Alex, all will be revealed in time. 

Ok, I bet you are thinking that your teacher is "crazy," and I bet you are thinking of all sorts of ways to get yourself out of this little "situation." You are a smart guy, Alex. I'll give you that. But, there is no way out of this, and honestly, you will eventually come to love me, even if you don't love me now. So try not to waste your time on schemes. 

I love you Alex. And I want to help you, so please carefully consider what I am about to say next. Burn these words into your brain Alex, because understanding them and respecting them is the key to whether you reach fulfillment in this life, a state of nirvana, or whether you fall into a pit of failure and despair from which you will never recover. 

There are multiple copies of the video you just watched. I have them safely stored. In fact, a hidden file is on your partner Rich's computer, ready for me to activate at any second. And, no, you cannot get rid of that file by throwing Rich's computer away, or erasing his hard drive, or any such thing. Oh yes, I know a thing or two about computers, as you have probably figured out. Do not test me. If I find you are wasting time with such shenanigans, rather than learning your lessons, Rich will come in one morning to see his sweet daughter's cherry-red lips wrapped around your cock. What do you think will happen to you then, Alex? 

Oh, and in case you think Rich won't mind that you came in his daughter's mouth? That you can just explain it to him, how you finger-banged her in his home, how she finger-fucked your ass, how you bent her over your bed and gave her a good old-fashioned hard fuck, and he will understand, boys-will-be-boys and all of that? Well, that favor Veronica owed me, you remember that one? It was a big one. There is another version of that video, where Veronica does not look quite so willing. You remember, don't you Alex? The second time you fucked Veronica that night, and she asked you to put your hands around her neck? Well, I assure you that this version of the video does not look good at all, Mr. Alex. And in case you have forgotten what that fuck looks like, I have left you a couple of pictures in this book to remind you. There are more like those, and they do not look good for you at all, my little pupil. 

So, here's the thing, Alex. You are going to do exactly what I tell you to do, whenever I tell you to do it, and that is all there is to it. Respect, Alex. Respect. 

So here is your first assignment my pretty student. Do exactly as I tell you. 

Pick up that pair of panties I left in your drawer. You remember those don't you? I'm sure you do. (Veronica looked very sexy in them). After you are done reading this letter, take your pants and underwear off, and put these panties on. Yes, I know they will be a little snug, Alex, but you can do it. I want you to put them on in your office, so I can see you do it. (Yes, I am watching you Alex). Then, you will get dressed again, and drive home. 

When you get home, I think it is time for you to go to bed. Don't bother getting on your computer, researching, trying to figure this out, Alex. Remember the cameras and the computer monitoring. Your phone has been taken care of too. And, there is the little matter of GPS. I'm sure you would like to know where that is, but not now. You are to go straight home tonight, Alex. 

Before you get in bed, I want you to strip all of your clothes off except for your new panties. Maybe you will be able to sleep tonight with those pretty little panties on? I'm sure the thought of Veronica having worn them, and your hard little cock pressed against the lace will make you want to touch yourself, but no touching tonight! 

Finally, there is one last thing for you to do. When you get up tomorrow morning, I want you to hand wash your new panties. You may dry them in the dryer, but you must hand wash them. They are delicate. This will teach you respect and patience. Respect for your new pretties. Patience as you clean them properly. Then, when they are all nice and clean, you will put them on again and wear them to work. (Yes, Alex, you can wear your suit over them. It will be our little secret this time!) 

When you get to work, you will open this journal, and you will write me a letter in it. It should be written just after mine, handwritten, in ink. Your first paper, Alex, aren't you excited?! 

This letter should tell me how it feels to wear those panties, Alex. How did you feel as you put them on for the first time? How did you feel knowing I was watching you put them on? How did you feel getting into bed with them on? Did you like touching the lace when you washed the panties? As you sit at your desk, wearing them, writing to me, what do they feel like against your skin, Alex? What is your little cock doing all this time? Tell me. 

And you must tell me the truth, Alex. I will know, one way or the other, when I read your letter. Do not disappoint me. 

When you are done with your letter, tie the ribbon back around the journal. Make it pretty, Alex! Then, put the journal back in your drawer and lock it. Don't worry; I have the key. Then, just go back to work, and go home tonight. When you get home, you can take off your new panties. But only if you want. You may like them too much! And, Alex, when you get home tomorrow night, after a full day in your new panties, no masturbating then either! Patience. 

Remember, Alex. Respect, and patience. I can't wait to read your first letter! 

Your teacher, Miss Becca 

P.S. It was a special treat to see you jack off in your office tonight, Alex! You're so naughty! I did not count on that. But, it made for nice bonus footage on the video didn't it? I had to work fast! XOXO 

Alex finished reading the letter and closed the book. He poured himself another drink, and quickly slugged it down, not bothering to savor the fine scotch. Alex picked up the pictures that had fallen from the journal. The first showed him and Veronica on his bed. Veronica, a look of terror on her face, and Alex's hands wrapped around her throat. They are both naked from the waist up. Alex wondered how he had missed that look she had given him. He reproached himself again for his stupidity, his failure to think that night, when a 21-year-old girl asked him to choke her while they fucked. 

Alex examined the second picture. It was a picture of Veronica, wearing the same dress from that night, but her hair was dissheveled. She looked distraught, and she had dark bruises on her neck. Alex knew he had not done that to her, but he also knew that if he were to find himself sitting in a prosecutor's office one day, or in front of a jury, that sweet little Veronica could bury a 45-year-old pervert. All of the tension slipped away then because he knew, at least in that moment, he did not have a goddamned choice. 

Alex put the pictures back in the journal, and closed it tight. He placed the tumbler, the nearly empty bottle, and the journal back into his desk, and locked the drawer. Then, resigned to his fate, he stood. Facing the computer screen, Alex unbuckled his belt, then slowly removed his pants, one leg after the other. He quickly pushed his boxers to the floor, and he stood for a moment, looking at the wall, wondering where the camera was, contemplating who was watching him. He was exposed, both literally and figuratively. Alex looked down at his cock, that instrument of trouble. It was shriveled, almost completely sucked into his body. 

He reached for the white panties, resting on the desk. He slipped them on, and thought briefly how wrong the mysterious Miss Becca had been in her prediction that they might be too "snug." The front panel of the panties was almost completely flat, Alex's cock having virtually disappeared. Alex put his pants back on, walked out the front door, and drove home.



A Book of Letters Ch. 02



Kathryn Sellers watched the computer monitor intently. Her stomach tingled as the thrill of what she had accomplished washed over her. Sitting in the corner of her home office, Kathryn shifted in her black, faux-leather desk chair. She felt a slight pull on her bare thighs as they separated from the cheap material. It occurred to Kathryn that she had been sweating, a realization she found disconcerting since she prided herself on her self-composure. 

Kathryn exulted as she watched Alex Gentry, a 45-year-old partner in an architectural firm, leaving his office. Kathryn had spent the last six months of her life working toward this moment. Her plans, for both Alex and herself, had just taken a colossal leap forward. Kathryn had watched Alex read the letter in the leather-bound journal, all while nervously biting her lower lip, not knowing with certainty how Alex would respond. She knew from her work that the human mind is not always predictable, so she had watched, waiting, filled with trepidation. 

Now that Alex had left his office, Kathryn leaned forward in the chair, her long, slender fingers deftly working the keyboard. She looked up and the monitor began replaying the recorded video from Alex's office. It showed Alex facing her camera, just minutes ago, with a look of complete resignation on his handsome face. As he dropped his pants and boxers, Kathryn could not help but laugh, seeing again the shriveled stump of his cock, which appeared half-withdrawn into his body. "Too perfect," she thought to herself. 

As the screen showed Alex pulling on the white lace panties, she paused the video. Frozen in time, Alex stood there, the panties hugging his hips. In preparation for this moment, Kathryn had spent months thoroughly researching the life and times of one Alex Gentry. Cameras had been surreptitiously planted throughout his apartment and office. She had found nothing to indicate that he was a secret crossdresser, or that he had any particular affinity for women's clothing. Yet, here Alex stood, in his sexy panties, just as Kathryn's alter ego, Miss Becca, had commanded. 

Kathryn knew much regarding the psychology of middle-aged males, particularly men like Alex. Straight American males had been nurtured in a society where women's clothing was designed to appeal to their prurient interests. Panties, stockings, low-cut bras, high-heels, and skirts of a certain hemline were designed to activate a male hormonal reaction. Kathryn believed that it was precisely the male physical and mental reaction to feminine clothing that generated the paradox of societal rejection of male crossdressing. After all, it can be terribly confusing for a man, who thinks of himself as straight, to want to fuck another man simply because he is wearing nothing but a pair of silky panties and thigh-high stockings. 

Kathryn never bought into the idea of the completely straight man, of course, believing that virtually all men fall somewhere in the middle between gay and straight, even if they are unable to acknowledge or accept this truth. And it was this knowledge, founded in extensive personal experience and reading, that caused her to land upon this path for Alex. She had forced Alex to take the first step, and many more steps lay in front of him. For now, Kathryn felt deep satisfaction that her months of work appeared to be paying dividends. 

Kathryn had not been surprised by Alex's decision to wear the panties. She was, however, surprised by her own reaction. Kathryn looked at the clock on the wall; 9:35 p.m., she noted. She still had twenty-five minutes before Bruce was scheduled to arrive. Kathryn turned in the chair and looked to a second monitor to her right. This monitor contained a live feed of a room down the hall, what used to be the master bedroom of her home but which she had converted several years ago into the room in which she worked with clients. The camera in the master bedroom aimed at a corner, where one of her clients lay in a fetal position, trapped in small cage. 

Kathryn was a 38-year-old, twice-divorced woman. Her first husband had been her high school sweetheart, nothing but a boy who became an abusive drunk. Kathryn had once been a meek, sweet girl, and she had loved this boy. At first, he made her feel like a princess; he was handsome and athletic, and he doted on her. He had given Kathryn her first orgasm when she was 17, a memory she still cherished, only because it was an orgasm that came from a real physical and emotional connection with another person, an experience she had never been able to replicate. But within two years, as the glory days of his high school years faded into memories, her husband became embittered, and began directing his frustrations into a cycle of drunkenness and abuse. Kathryn barely escaped this marriage intact, when she was 22, and only after she had mustered the courage to run. 

This escape left Kathryn with nothing but the clothes on her back, a jar of change, and a beat-up Civic. Despite the obstacles, Kathryn somehow managed to survive the ordeal of the next few years. She worked around the clock at odd jobs, as a waitress, a maid, anything to pay the bills and feed herself. Then, she met an older, single man in a restaurant, and the promise of an easier life led her into a loveless, second marriage. This marriage lasted 6 years. The only good thing to come from it was Kathryn had been able to go to college, earning a degree in psychology. After divorcing this man, Kathryn swore she would never allow herself to depend on anyone again. At 31, she set upon a path of self-reliance and empowerment. 

Now, for the first time in her life, Kathryn felt truly empowered. She had forced a successful, handsome, semi-wealthy man to do her bidding. While she had been doing this for years, it was in a different capacity, part of her side business as Mistress Kate. None of it was real, however. Her work with Alex, however, was very real. It was control; it was power. And, the black thong panties Kathryn was wearing were drenched. She could not remember ever being turned on like this. 

Kathryn was half-dressed for her 10:00 appointment. Her make-up was done, and her long, wavy auburn hair was pulled up, only a few stray locks falling out to frame her delicate face. She wore a black corset, the tops of her 36D breasts spilling out. Kathryn's thin knee-length wool skirt was bunched half-way up her thighs, pushed up as she had leaned into the computer screen. 

Kathryn turned back to the frozen screen shot of Alex and reached for her mouse. She zoomed into the front panel of Alex's panties and marveled at how flat it looked. She noted the hair of his legs poking out the edges, a not so appealing contrast to the white lace of the panties. Kathryn briefly thought to herself how much better he would look without the hair, and then zoomed in so she could see only the panties themselves, with just the tiniest of bulges pressing against the satin fabric. 

Kathryn pulled her right hand from the mouse and placed it on her knee, brushing her thigh with her fingertips, slowly caressing her leg, until her hand made it to the edge of her own panties. She slipped a finger under them, touching herself for the first time. An electric bolt flashed through her body as her index finger slipped down her moist, hairless mound, through and into the folds of her pussy. Kathryn drew her finger up, reveling in the heat pouring off herself, and as she reached her clit, the lightest touch of her finger sparked a shudder. 

Kathryn circled her clit, her body reacting to every brush of her finger, and her mind turned back to Alex. Alex had a beautiful cock. 6 inches, cut, smooth, perfectly-proportioned, and when fully engorged, ram-rod straight. A cock made for sucking. A cock made for filling a hot cunt. A cock made for any number of things. "Fuck," Kathryn moaned softly to herself. 

She reluctantly pulled her hand away and stood to reach behind one of her monitors, quickly grabbing a six-inch, pink, silicone dildo. She sat again, pushing her skirt to her waist, and quickly drawing her panties down to her knees. Kathryn lifted her bare right foot to the edge of the desk, her left foot planted on the floor, shifting her hips for better access. Bringing the dildo to her mound with her left hand, she probed, and then, in one fluid motion, she pushed the dildo all the way inside her waiting pussy. Kathryn gasped as the toy filled her. Her pussy was remarkably tight for a 38-year-old woman; it had not been used much in recent years. 

Kathryn held the dildo firmly with her left hand, and returned her right index finger to her clit. Her mind turned back to Alex. She imagined Alex sitting in her chair, wearing nothing but his new panties. But now his cock was hard, the perfectly-formed head and three inches of shaft reaching out of the panties, pressed hard against his stomach. She imagined herself in front of Alex, standing, looking down with pleasure on him, admiring that cock of his, incredibly aroused at the thought of him wearing the panties she had given him. Alex, looking deep into her eyes, a crooked grin on his face, as he slips his thumbs under the lace waistband, pulling the panties out and over his cock and balls. Now his entire manhood is waiting for her, imploring her to impale herself on it. She imagines moving forward, slipping one leg and then the next through the gaps in the back of the chair, balancing herself with her hands on Alex's shoulders, her throbbing pussy positioned just over his waiting cock. Then, Kathryn releases her body, letting Alex's entire shaft fill her in one glorious movement. 

In the present, Kathryn's body explodes as an orgasmic wave rushes through her, her pussy contracting on the pink dildo, her juices washing over it, spilling down its silicone shaft. Kathryn screams, "Oh God, Alex, Alex," as she continues to furiously rub her clit. The wave of the orgasm tears through her, and then, seconds later, another one arrives, moving the length of her body, reaching her brain, the pleasure sensors temporarily overloaded. As the second wave subsides, Kathryn realizes she could keep going, that the pleasure might never stop, but she briefly looks at the clock, and realizes she must stop. She withdraws the dildo, sets it aside, and pulls her up still wet panties. 

"Jesus, get a grip Kat," she thinks to herself. She moves to the far wall of the office, where a rack of clothing and shoes sits. Kathryn unzips her skirt, and exchanges it for a smaller mini-skirt, this one made of black leather, just barely long enough to cover her panties. She grabs a second pair of black thong panties, putting them on after removing and throwing the dripping pair in a hamper. Kathryn sits at a vanity next to the clothing rack, and slowly pulls on a pair of sheer black hold-up stockings, after which she slips into and zips her four-inch black stiletto boots. She examines herself in a full-length mirror, straightening her clothes, adjusting her corset, tucking her hair in. Despite her best efforts, however, Kathryn cannot entirely stop thinking of what just happened, the first multiple orgasm of her life. 

Kathryn looks at the clock, 9:55 p.m. now, and returns to her computer desk. She examines the live feed from the master bedroom, while she takes deep breaths in an effort to refocus her mind to the work at hand. Waiting for her down the hall is one of her regular clients, a 57-year-old banker with a penchant for masochism. When the banker is in her house, she refers to him only as "Shit-Head." Shit-Head had arrived around 7:00 a.m., and Kathryn, or Mistress Kate as she was known to her clients, had begun her work with him. 

Shit-Head was nude in the cage, except for the black leather mask over his head. Hidden under the mask was a ball gag to keep him quiet. His hands were tied together and to the bars of the cage with a strong plastic tie. The banker's ass was striped with welts from the caning Kathryn had given him that morning. Sticking out of his ass was a medium-size black dildo, about 8 inches long, but only about 4 inches of it had been inserted after his caning. Shit-Head appeared to have fallen into a fitful sleep. 

Shit-Head was a disgusting blob of a man, probably over 300 pounds, with hair in all the wrong places. Kathryn did not find it difficult playing the sadist with Shit-Head because she found him repulsive, but he paid well. And she never judged a man or woman based upon their kinks, so if this is what he wanted, and he paid, Mistress Kate was happy to oblige. Kathryn had a special treat for Shit-Head tonight before she released him back to his boring life, something she knew he would both hate and love at the same time. 

Shortly after 10:00 p.m., the doorbell to Kathryn's house rang. She went to the door, and standing outside was Bruce, a hulk of a man, 6 foot 4 inches tall, and packed with 230 pounds of muscle. Kathryn worked with Bruce regularly, and she smiled as she invited him inside and gave him a hug. "Hi, Bruce, how is the family?" Kathryn inquired. "They're great, Kat, it's good to see you," Bruce replied, as he handed Kathryn a piece of paper. Kathryn looked over the paper containing Bruce's most recent STD test results, which she folded and stuffed into her corset. She then handed Bruce an envelope with $400 in cash. Kathryn said, "Well, let's go see Shit-Head." 

Kathryn opened the master bedroom door loudly, slamming it against the outside wall. The banker jolted awake in his cage, a muffled grunt coming from under the mask. She quickly walked to the cage and yanked it open while Bruce stood outside the door in the hallway. She grabbed a pair of wire cutters and freed Shit-Head's hands, as she ordered him to "get the fuck out." The banker crawled out of the cage, moving slowly, obviously stiff and in some pain from his beating. 

When he had extricated his entire mass, Kathryn planted the sharp heel of her boot in his ass and ordered him to crawl forward. When he had made it to the table on the far side of the room, Kathryn exclaimed, "I have a real surprise for you tonight, Shit-Head, so get your fat ass up." He slowly stood, and Kathryn pushed his hairy upper back, hard, so that the front side of him fell onto the table, his feet planted on the floor. Kathryn moved to the opposite side of the table, and roughly grabbed the banker's arms, locking his wrists into a rack at the end of the table. Now, he was bent over, prone, unable to move his upper body, with half a dildo sticking out of his ass, and Kathryn summoned Bruce. 

Bruce walked to the front of the table so the banker could see him. Bruce was wearing only black leather pants, a black leather vest, and motorcycle boots. His pectoral muscles rippled under the vest, his stomach a washboard. The banker's eyes widened when he saw him for the first time. There was fear in them. Kathryn lowered her head to the banker's right ear, and whispered, "Shit-Head, this is Bruce. You are the most disgusting piece of shit I have ever seen, but despite that, Bruce is here to fuck you until your eyes pop out of your skull. What do you think about that?" The banker responded by thrashing about on the table in a futile attempt to get his hands free, all while grunting unintelligibly under the mask. As he continued thrashing, Kathryn moved behind him, holding a cane, and gave the banker three quick lashes on his ass, a result of which the muffled grunting turned into muffled screaming and more angry welts rose up on his ass. Kathryn moved back to the banker's ear, whispering, "Now shut the fuck up Shit-Head and stop moving or you are getting ten more." The banker immediately silenced his grunting and stilled his body. 

Bruce gave Shit-Head a wicked smile and moved his hands to the buttons on his pants. Slowly, Bruce undid one button after another as the banker watched. Then, Bruce pulled out his cock, and Kathryn was momentarily frightened as the banker's eyes, which had previously been the size of saucers, closed and his body slumped. It looked like he had passed out. But, then he stirred and re-opened his eyes, and Kathryn breathed a sigh of relief. 

Bruce's flaccid cock was at least 6 inches. It was thick and covered in veins. His huge balls, the size of racket balls, hung below. Bruce, never saying a word, grabbed the shaft with his right hand and began stroking it. The 6 inches of flaccid meat quickly grew into 10 inches of thick, crooked cock. No doubt, Bruce's cock was one of the ugliest dicks Kathryn had ever seen. Kathryn moved into the banker's ear again, "Are you ready for Bruce to split you open?" The banker grunted furiously, but he kept his body still. "No, well, let's get you ready anyway," Kathryn continued. She moved behind the banker, while Bruce continued stroking his cock in front of him. 

It was bad for business to hurt clients in ways they had not asked for, but Kathryn knew of the banker's fantasy to be forcibly fucked. She needed to prepare him for Bruce though, so she removed the half-inserted dildo, threw it to the side, and lubed a clean, slightly larger dildo. She slowly inserted the dildo into his ass, feeling the resistance of his inner sphincter. She stroked him with it a few times, warming him up, and when she could sense his body accepting it, Kathryn pushed it all the way in. The banker's muffled cry shot out, the pain hitting him, but Kathryn continued pumping him, fucking him with the dildo for a few minutes until the banker adjusted to it. Then, she pulled it out, and motioned for Bruce. 

Bruce stood behind the banker, who was thrashing again, resisting. Bruce grabbed his hips with his strong hands to settle him. He then lined up the head of his cock with the banker's well-used asshole, and pushed the tip in. When it was firmly in place, Bruce powered his entire shaft into the banker's ass in one hard thrust, bottoming out, his sizeable balls hitting Shit-Head's meaty thighs. The banker's muffled screams were even louder than when he had been caned. Bruce did not stop. With his hands on the banker's hips, he repeatedly pulled his 10 hard inches back to the tip, and pounded back in, building a rhythm, fucking the banker mercilessly. 

Kathryn was at the banker's ear, her voice rising over his muffled screams, "Yes Shit-Head, you are getting fucked good now, aren't you? This is what you wanted wasn't it? You are such a dumb fuck, such a pathetic little worm. God, you look so disgusting, getting fucked by this big, strong man. You don't deserve it, do you, Shit-Head? You don't deserve to have his seed inside you, do you, Shit-Head?" The banker just screamed into his gag. 

As Bruce continued pounding him, the banker's screams faded. They morphed into soft, stifled moans. The banker was now pushing back into Bruce's pounding cock, wanting it even deeper inside him. Finally, Bruce erupted inside the banker, pumping a full load into him. Before he was spent, Bruce pulled out, shooting two more ropes of hot cum onto the banker's back. Kathryn could see that Shit-Head had shot an enormous load of his own, apparently by rubbing his little cock against the table in tandem with Bruce's long strokes. The banker's semen spilled out from the edges of his fat belly. 

Bruce cleaned himself up and left, giving Kathryn a small hug in the hallway, thanking her for the business. Kathryn returned to the room and unlocked the banker's hands. The banker was clearly spent and exhausted, but Kathryn spoke to him in a firm voice: "Get your fat ass up and get dressed. Don't you dare clean any of Bruce's seed off your body before you get dressed. You don't deserve any of it, so you should treasure it a little longer. Next time, I might have him put it down your throat so none of it goes to waste. And you better clean up your own mess off that table, Shit-Head. If I see one drop of your filthy mess later, I am going to open up your back with the cane next time. Now, get cleaned up and get the fuck out. You have 5 minutes." 




A Book of Letters Ch. 02



Kathryn returned to her office and listened for the banker's footsteps in the hall and the front door closing behind him. She felt exhausted, but she had a great deal of work to do now that her plan with Alex was in motion. So, she turned to her computer and set to work. 

Many hours later, Kathryn stripped her clothes off while she waited for the shower water to warm. Standing before the mirror, without the clothes of Mistress Kate, without a bank of computers in front of her, without the power she drew from the success of the day with Alex, she was just Kat, a twice-divorced 38-year-old woman. Just a 140 pound, 5 foot 4 inch tall woman, approaching what felt to her like middle age. Her body, which she used with such effect, did not feel sexy and voluptuous. She had been told hundreds of times, by men and women both, that she was beautiful, but in this moment she did not feel that way. She felt alone. Kathryn was not a religious woman, but she said a silent prayer to herself, asking for strength, before stepping into the shower. 

Ten minutes later, Kathryn slipped a white nightgown over her head and pulled on a clean pair of white, cotton panties. It was 5 a.m. She fell on top of her bed, not bothering to pull the covers down. Kathryn slipped into a fitful sleep. 

Kathryn was in Alex's apartment, checking the camera in his bedroom. She was wearing a simple sundress, tennis shoes, and her hair was down, pushed behind her ears, as she peered behind a mirror examining a camera. Kathryn heard a noise, someone breathing behind her. Startled, she turned suddenly, and Alex was standing in the doorway of the room. He was naked, except for his lacy panties. His body was firm for a 45-year-old man, but his dark hair and beard were flecked with gray. Alex stared at her. There was something in his eyes, unspoken, something he was trying to tell her, but she could not understand. Alex did not speak. 

Alex walked toward Kathryn, as if he recognized her, but Kathryn knew that could not be right, he had never seen her before. Kathryn trembled, her entire body shaking, as Alex slowly walked across the room. Kathryn began crying, first wet tears falling down her face, and then sobs that racked her entire body. Alex stood before her, looking at her with a gentleness, with a love, she had never seen before. Alex's gray-blue eyes burned into hers, and Kathryn sobbed. She badly wanted Alex to take her into his arms, to hold her, to make this pain go away, but he did not. 

Kathryn lost consciousness, and then woke again. She was in Alex's room, lying on her back in his bed. The hem of her sundress was above her waist, and she was wearing nothing else. Alex was at the foot of the bed. He had removed his own panties and they dangled from the end of his middle finger. He smiled at her, and the panties fell to the floor. 

Alex kissed Kathryn's left foot, softly taking each toe into his mouth, sucking them, kissing them. His kisses moved to her ankle, and slowly up her inner thigh. Now, Alex's face was between her legs, his tongue darting into the wet folds of her pussy. Her body trembled. Occasionally he looked up, his eyes boring into hers, as his tongue explored her mound. His kisses then moved up Kathryn's stomach, finding their way to her sundress. Alex's kisses so soft, but it was if her sundress were not even there. Kathryn could feel them all. Then, his tongue in Kathryn's mouth, meeting hers, folding into it, his sweet breath mixing with her own. Kathryn's tears returned, but they were not sad tears. Her heart was exploding. 

Alex entered her, slowly pushing every inch of his hard cock into her. As the fullness enveloped her, Kathryn lost track of who she was. Rather than lying on her back being entered by Alex, she was on top. It was Kathryn's cock slipping into his wetness, stroking his bare pussy; it was her tongue exploring Alex's mouth. Alex, his eyes looking up at her with love, his beard brushing her face as their lips met. Kathryn pushing into him, pulling out, gently making love to him. Alex's hairless legs wrapped around her, pulling her hips into him, the hem of his sundress pushed up. Alex, making his first sound, whispering, begging, "Please, Kat, fuck me." Then, Kathryn's cock exploding, filling Alex's contracting pussy. 

Kathryn woke to the sound her alarm clock, immediately sitting up in bed. Her body was tingling, and she felt the dampness of her cotton panties. Her nipples were hard and poking through the fabric of her nightgown. She felt certain she had just had an orgasm in her sleep, another first. "Oh, my god," she thought to herself. She sat for a moment, gathering herself. 

It was 6:00 p.m. on Saturday, and she had slept longer than expected. She had set the alarm as a backstop, and was now glad she had. She rose from bed and threw on a pair of jeans, a bra, and a light sweater, brushed her teeth, and made herself a quick cup of coffee. Kathryn was excited because she knew Alex would have left work hours ago, and if he had done as he was told, a letter would be waiting for her in his desk drawer. 

She went to her office, and turned on the computer. She quickly found the video from Alex's office that day. He had been there, and he was writing in the journal. Scanning forward, she saw Alex packing his briefcase and leaving the office. "Good," she thought to herself. Kathryn scanned through the entirety of the video from the day, making certain that Alex had not gotten cute and hidden his own camera. She also checked the GPS monitoring systems she had set to make certain there were no unexpected movements, and felt satisfied. She also checked his phone records; again, nothing unusual. It appeared that Alex had decided to play it safe today, to ride it out, but Kathryn knew eventually he would look for his escape. Kathryn was ready for that day too, but for now, all was still moving according to plan. 

Kathryn grabbed the green, canvas bag from her office, and moved to her garage. She got into her older Acura and turned the key, the engine sputtering to a start, and she briefly thought of the contrast between the Acura's old engine and the engine in Alex's Jaguar. Kathryn drove to Alex's office building, but today, rather than parking in the lot, she parked two blocks away and walked. 

Kathryn had not expected to initiate her plan with Alex yesterday; things simply came together at the last minute when Alex had stayed at work late. She had taken her opportunity. But, the quickness of it all caused her to make a mistake - she had left her Acura in the office parking lot that day, and she knew Alex had a clear view of the parking lot from his office window. Kathryn knew she was going to have to get rid of the Acura, but that could wait. 

After first checking the parking lot for cars and finding it empty, Kathryn walked to the front door of Alex's office building, and unlocked the glass door with her own key. As she walked the hallway, she was largely unconcerned with being seen. Even if Alex had managed to beat her system and was lurking in a corner watching for her, she had reason to be there. About a year earlier, Kathryn had rented a single room office on the first floor of the building for her counseling practice. She walked to the door of her office, and glanced at the sign on the door announcing "Kathryn Sellers, Licensed Clinical Social Worker." She opened the door, and set her bag inside. 

Walking to the end of the hall, she used another key - this one she had stolen some months ago from the building's cleaning staff - to open the door to a small stairway. This stairway was not open to the public, but only served as a fire escape. She walked two stories up and used a third key - again, stolen from the cleaning staff - to enter the architectural firm. Now, she had to be more cautious, stopping to listen and scan the room for any unwanted people. Feeling safe, she moved to Alex's office, opened his desk drawer with her key, removed the leather-bound journal, then carefully returned to her own office. 

Safely ensconced back in her office, she stretched out on a couch, and examined the leather journal. She felt nervous again, and struggled to contain the feeling. Kathryn could not completely understand her reactions over the last 24 hours, including this nervousness. Her planning had been meticulous. Her goals were clear. But, something felt off and she could not identify why. These visions and dreams of Alex unsettled her. 

Looking back at the journal, a small laugh managed to slip through. Alex had done a nice job with the pink ribbon; it was carefully tied into a girlish bow. She pulled it and opened the journal, turning to the page with Alex's familiar, neat handwriting. Her heart beating a little too fast, she read: 

Miss Becca, 

You told me to tell the truth, so I have to start with this truth. I do not understand why you are doing this. You say you love me, but I do not know who you are. And this all scares me. I sincerely hope you will not be offended by this, me telling you this. But, I would like it if you would tell me more about you, and why you are doing this to me. Please do this for me, Miss Becca. 

I am wearing the panties right now. I wore my suit to the office today, over them, as you said I could. I would not ordinarily wear a suit on Saturday, but I am really trying listen to you and respect you, so I wore my nicest suit. Do you like it? 

Yesterday, when I put the panties on for the first time, I was not sure how to feel. I had been frightened. I did not have a choice. I had never worn panties before yesterday. Putting them on felt strange, I did not feel like myself. I felt like someone else, almost like I was out of body. Almost like I was you, Miss Becca, watching it happen. It did not hurt my pride to know you were watching me, not then. It just felt different. As I drove home, I could feel the lace pressing against my skin, and it finally hit me that, yes, it was me who was wearing them, not someone else. 

When I got to my apartment, I went straight to my room and took my clothes off, everything except for the panties. I was in the bathroom, and I stood for a few moments, looking at myself in the mirror. The panties looked different on me. I had seen Veronica in them, and as you said, she was sexy in them. I looked at myself, naked, and I felt a disgusted with myself. 

Then, I got into bed. I did not sleep much last night, Miss Becca. My mind was firing, confused. I laid awake for several hours, then I drifted off into sleep. I had a dream, and I am a little afraid to tell you this dream, but I am trying to be truthful with you. I want to respect you. 

Veronica was in my dream. She was laying in my bed, wearing these panties, but nothing else. She was looking at me, and she curled her index finger, beckoning me to her. I climbed into bed and slipped the panties down her legs. But Veronica was different this time. She had a dick, and it was hard. I reeled back from it, but Veronica just looked at me, and she said, "Hi, Alex." She asked me to come back to bed, and I did. She was laying there, looking at me, her eyes hungry. She took my face in her hands, and kissed me, then pushed my face down to her cock. Veronica was begging, "Do it, Alex, please, do it." Then, I woke up. 

I am not gay or bi-sexual, Miss Becca. But because I had been having a sexual dream, my own dick was hard in my panties when I woke up. I tried to adjust myself to get more comfortable, because the head had slipped out the side. I did not stroke it; I knew not to do that. But, it did take me a little bit of time to settle myself and fall back asleep. 

I woke the next morning and took my panties off to shower. Then I went to the bathroom sink and gently scrubbed them with a mild soap. You asked me whether I liked to touch the lace; truthfully, no. They were wet. But, I cleaned them, and put them in the dryer for a few minutes. It did not take long. Then, I put them back on and put my suit on. Now, here I am at work, writing this letter. 

Right now, I can feel the lace of the panties against my leg. Writing about that dream made me hard again, thinking about Veronica (not the Veronica of my dream, the real Veronica). My dick is filling them; I can feel it slipping up and out the waistband. The silky feel of the front panel, rubbing against me feels good, if I have to tell the truth. I want to touch myself, Miss Becca. But, I will not. 

I hope this is honest enough for you. I hope you will think more about what I asked you, Miss Becca. I feel exposed, and as hard as that is for me, the bigger problem is I am afraid. I do not know what you want. Please tell me. 

Your student, Alex Gentry 

P.S. When I get home tonight, I am going to continue wearing your gift to me because, reading between the lines of your letter, I think you want me to do that. I am going to wear my panties every day, and wash them every day, just as you asked, until I hear from you again. I hope to hear from you soon. 

Kathryn closed the ledger and let out a long breath. She had not realized until then she had been holding her breath. She marveled that her panties were completely soaked again, and her heart was racing. She packed the ledger into her bag, locked her office, and walked slowly to her car, her mind unable to escape the image of Alex's dream, feeling certain of two things. Her plan remained on track. And it would not be long until her next multiple orgasm.



A Book of Letters Ch. 03



Alex increased the setting on his treadmill to a six minute per mile pace. His breathing was labored, becoming almost ragged as he pounded out his fourth mile. It was a beautiful Sunday morning. Looking out the window of his fifteenth-story downtown apartment, he could see the outlines of joggers running along the popular riverbank path. Alex knew the weather must have taken a colder turn overnight as all the runners appeared to be wearing jackets. 

Alex would have preferred to run outside along the riverbank, but he was not ready to test Miss Becca's tracking system. He doubted her ability to follow his every movement, but for now he had decided not to push it, concluding it better to bide his time and wait, hoping for an opening to exploit. Alex was fully prepared to exercise the patience his teacher demanded. But his version of this virtue was most certainly not what Miss Becca had in mind. Hitting the limit of his cardiovascular system, Alex lowered his pace and ran one more cool-down mile. 

Feeling energized by the run, Alex walked into his modern kitchen and made himself a bowl of oatmeal with raisins and a little brown sugar. He sat at the grey marble counter and ate, contemplating the last 36 hours of his life. Alex had slept soundly on Saturday night after a night of little sleep on Friday. After the initial shock of Friday, when Miss Becca had surprised him with her video and letter, he had regained the use of his analytical mind. The act of putting his mind to work had calmed him. This was another puzzle to solve, admittedly a complicated one with all sorts of limitations, restrictions, and moving parts. 

He had written his first letter to Miss Becca with his own agenda in mind. Alex wanted Miss Becca to believe he had accepted his fate, so he had written it in a tone that was more submissive than he felt. Alex also wanted Miss Becca to believe he was afraid of her; thus, his questions about her identity and other expressions of concern. Alex did not believe for a second that she would give him this information, but he needed her to think that he was being a good, submissive little pupil. Perhaps she would let her guard down if he played the part well enough. 

Alex had no idea what had motivated Miss Becca to go to the trouble of setting this trap for him, but he knew this was no lark on her part. Miss Becca had involved a third person in her game, Veronica, and of itself this told Alex she was highly motivated. No one would take the risk of involving a third person, particularly someone as young as Veronica, in an elaborate blackmail plan without some powerful impetus driving her. 

Alex had also considered whether Miss Becca was simply a person driven by sexual compulsion, and that he had the misfortune of becoming the target of her obsession. That scenario was possible, but Alex thought it highly unlikely. There were simply too many safer ways for a person to get their rocks off. Miss Becca's motivations had to be deeper than this unless, of course, she was simply insane. However, her methods and planning so far did not suggest insanity. They suggested calculation. Alex knew he would have to lay the issue of motivation aside for the moment. 

Alex turned his mind to the mental list he had spent yesterday afternoon preparing while sitting in his office, blankly staring at his architectural plans. Alex was a methodical person and liked to create lists, but he also knew that writing down his thoughts was a bad idea in light of Miss Becca's claim to be monitoring him. So he ran through the list of things he knew, or possibly knew about Miss Becca. 

First, he believed her to be female from the writing style and her name. He could not exclude a male yet, but Alex leaned toward female. 

Second, she might drive a beat-up, older silver Acura. Of course, Alex did not know the Acura was Miss Becca's any more than he knew Miss Becca was a woman. But he did know that someone had been in his office between the time he had gone to the bathroom to get paper towels to clean his own cum off the desk and the time he returned. Alex estimated this period of time to be 8-10 minutes, not much time for someone to write the post-script to the first letter and plant the journal and other items in his desk. Between that and adding the scene of him jerking off in the video, Miss Becca must have been in the building, unless she was working with even another person, a prospect Alex found unlikely. Whether it was Miss Becca who planted the journal or not, he knew that someone was in the building. And the only car in the parking lot had been the Acura. It was a lead, as thin as it might be. 

Third, Alex had run through the list of all of the people who worked in his architectural firm and who he knew had access to the office. There were 29 employees, between the partners and other staff. He could not recall any of them driving an Acura, but he also had not paid much attention to their cars. Alex could only remember the cars of 11 of them, so there were plenty of people he could not exclude on the basis of a car. Nine of the employees were women, and he made another mental note of their names. He was not ready to exclude any of the firm employees, male or female, as possibilities, although he knew many of them well enough to seriously doubt that they could be Miss Becca. 

Fourth, he considered the possibility that the Acura belonged to another tenant. In addition to Alex's firm, there were as many as 20 different businesses in the building, mostly professionals of varying sorts. Alex knew very few of the employees of these businesses. He knew those only in passing, from occasional greetings in the hallway or the parking lot. He estimated there might be as many as 300 people working in the building. The thought of working through all of those names caused Alex to shake his head, temporarily daunted by the challenge. The Acura could belong to any one of them. And even if Miss Becca was another employee in the office building, this did not explain how she had a key to his firm's office. 

Fifth, Alex considered that Miss Becca might be part of the cleaning staff, which would explain the keys. Alex began laughing in a half-hysterical manner at this thought because the regular janitor was an overweight, 60-plus-year-old-man named Chuck. Chuck was a good guy, but Alex did not relish the thought of Chuck being his secret admirer and blackmailer. The thought of Chuck jerking off to a video of him wearing women's panties made Alex cringe. 

Finally, Alex knew that Miss Becca had some connection to Veronica, having used her as the chief prong in Alex's ensnarement. Looking into Veronica might be the key to all of this, Alex knew, but that was going to require access to the outside world, access Alex lacked until he could adequately test Miss Becca's security system. So, for now, Veronica would have to wait. 

Alex decided he would begin with the Acura. To do that, Alex needed help. Alex trusted no one just then, but he needed at least one person to trust. He had carefully considered who that person might be and had settled on her. Tomorrow, he would test her. The consequences of being wrong could be disastrous. But Alex felt he had to take the chance. 

After finishing his breakfast, Alex went to his bathroom to shower. Alex removed his running shorts, shirt, and socks. Alex had not worn his panties to run despite his promise to Miss Becca that he would wear them until receiving her next letter. He figured that Miss Becca had given him permission not to wear them after Saturday, and in any event, he assumed Miss Becca would appreciate his respect by not dumping a gallon of his own sweat into them. 

Alex stood in front of the mirror naked. He wondered if Miss Becca was watching him. Alex looked good for a 45-year-old. He had a touch of gray in his dark brown hair, although his beard was more gray than brown these days. Alex had the body of a long-time runner, lean, with very light muscle-tone. He was 5 feet 10 inches tall. His face was handsome, but not overly so, and without his beard he looked ten years younger. Alex wondered again what it was that had attracted Miss Becca's attention. 

After a long hot shower, Alex stood at the bathroom sink and began washing the panties. He did so gently, just in case Miss Becca was watching. He tossed them in the dryer and drank a cup of coffee. While he waited, Alex thought about his dream of Veronica from two nights ago, the dream where he discovered Veronica with a stiff cock under her panties. 

Alex had told Miss Becca about this dream in his first letter, but he had left out a few parts. He was unsure whether to include any of the dream, not wanting to exacerbate an already difficult problem, but he decided to give her a small taste. Alex had learned through the years that you have to play to the audience, to give them what they want, but only insofar as it does not conflict with your own purposes. So, Alex gave Miss Becca what he thought she wanted, a sexy little story revolving around his new panties. There was no way, however, that he was going to tell her the rest of it. 

Veronica did have a dick in that dream. And Alex had initially recoiled from it, after which Veronica had begged him to suck it. But rather than the dream ending with her plea, the dream actually ended with Alex servicing her and Veronica cumming in Alex's mouth. The details of that part of the dream were hazy, but the memory of Veronica's hard but silky shaft filling his mouth and throat had been distinct. Alex could not get enough of it. He remembered taking his mouth off of her for just a second or two, holding her shaft in his hand, with spit and Veronica's pre-cum dripping from his lips. And then returning Veronica's plea with his own, "Please don't cum, please baby, don't cum." Alex did not want to ever stop sucking her hard cock, but Veronica had not complied, instead filling his mouth with her warm seed, which he hungrily gulped down. 

Alex had woken from this dream and found himself hard. Alex was definitely not gay. He liked fucking women a great deal, so that part of his letter to Miss Becca was true. He was not quite as sure about the bi-sexual part. Alex had never been with a man, but he sometimes had fantasies involving other men. Alex had never told anyone this, and he was not about to share it with Miss Becca. 

Alex finished dressing in a comfortable pair of jeans and a university sweatshirt, and retreated to the study in his apartment. This was his favorite room, which he used for reading, music, rest, and reflection. He had this room custom built after buying the apartment following his divorce. Built-in cherry bookcases covered the far wall. The floor-to-ceiling windows, with a magnificent eastern view of the river and the city-scape, stood on the left. A leather chair and ottoman faced the windows, next to a small wooden table for his books and drinks. Alex had installed a high-end audio system with speakers in strategic places throughout the room. Against the doorway wall sat a work desk with a computer. Finally, on the right wall, Alex had an antique, standing writing desk, which he had purchased at auction several years ago. 

Alex cracked open an import beer and turned on his stereo, bringing up a Chopin nocturne. He reached for the biography of George Washington he had been reading, settled into his chair, and lost himself in the book, stopping periodically only to grab another beer. Many hours later, Alex realized he had not eaten lunch, and went to the kitchen to make dinner. Alex liked to cook and quickly put together a light dinner of pasta with olive oil and a dash of parmesan cheese, with fresh asparagus on the side. 

While cleaning the dishes, Alex heard his phone beeping to indicate he had received a text message. Not thinking much of it, he casually picked the phone up from the counter-top. His heart began racing as he knew that his peaceful Sunday had come to a close. The screen read only: "Miss Becca." She had sent him a text. Alex knew then that she was not completely overstating her access to his personal electronics, as she or someone else had obviously programmed in her phone number. He looked at the screen for a moment, adding one more item to his mental list - a phone number to investigate. Then, he swiped the screen to pull up the message. 

Hi, Alex. Hope you are having a good day at home. I sent you an e-mail. I want you to open it and watch the video. Love, Miss Becca. 

Alex thought to himself, "Shit, what else have I done," wondering what new compromising situation the video would show. He was surprised she would communicate with him this way. Alex considered whether he should send a return text and then thought the better of it. Instead, he went to his study and turned on his computer, pulling up his e-mail. His inbox contained the promised e-mail from Miss Becca, and again, he noted the address for later investigation. The e-mail had no text, just an attached video file. He nervously clicked on the video to play it. 

The video showed the bottom half of what was apparently a woman, sitting in a hard-backed plastic chair, like the chairs Alex remembered from elementary school. Music played, some kind of electronic beat he did not recognize. It was a sideways view, with the woman's back to the left, and legs to the right, filling the screen. Just the hemline of a red dress showing at the top of the screen. Her left leg, the furthest from the camera, bent at an almost 90 degree angle, her heel planted on the floor. Her right leg stretched out, just a small bend in her knee. She has on black, sheer stockings, with the tops and a small portion of the garter straps peeking from under her dress. Her black stiletto heels are tall, probably 3 inches or more. The black patent leather sheen of the shoes contrasted with their bright red soles. 

The woman's hands are moving up her right leg, slowly, seductively. Her fingernails are painted black, and a ring with a large purple stone graces the right hand. She starts at her ankles, slowly caressing them, moving up to her calves, circling them. Her hands move to her knee, then her thigh, lightly brushing the sheer fabric of her stocking. Despite the feeling of nervousness he felt, Alex could feel his cock hardening, pressing against the satin and lace of his panties. The way the woman moved, her attention to her long, beautiful legs, was erotic. 

As the woman's hands make it above the stocking tops, now touching her bare skin, she begins toying with a garter strap, lightly lifting it with one finger. To the right of the screen, what appears to be the bottom half of a man appears. He is wearing a pin-striped suit, well-dressed. His black shoes are finely polished. The man falls to his knees, and now his face is visible. He is handsome, young, with a light black beard. His hands go to the woman's legs, one on each thigh, stroking them. His hands move to her inner thighs and he pushes them apart, his hands disappearing up her dress, only for them to reappear with a pair of black panties in his fingers, pulling them down over the woman's stockings, over her shoes. 

The camera slowly pans out, still not showing the upper body of the woman, but more of the lower half of her dress. The dress is tented, and Alex now knows where this is leading. The man pushes the dress up past the woman's waist to reveal her cock and shaved balls. The man begins licking the head, and then slowly down the left side of her shaft. His mouth reaches for one of her smooth balls, and sucks it between his lips, with his right hand moving to her shaft to begin a slow stroke. He gently releases the first ball from his mouth, pulling her cock up to reveal the underside of her scrotum. He licks the underside with long strokes of his tongue, up onto the bottom of her shaft and then down, moving to the other ball, taking it between his lips. His hand stroking her cock again in long slow movements while he attends to her balls. 

The man begins stroking her faster, more urgently. In a swift movement, the man moves his mouth onto her cock, taking half of it in, apparently not just licking, but now sucking. The man continues taking it deeper into his mouth until his nose is touching her pubic bone, and then slides it out. His hands are under the woman's thighs, stroking her bare skin and the tops of her stockings. His mouth plunges down her shaft again, now giving her quick strokes with his tongue, his head bobbing on her. She is pushing her hips into him. 

Her cock jerks out of his mouth and she is firing a load of cum onto the man's face, coating him. Her own hand, with the black-painted nails, guiding her shaft so the jets hit him in different spots. When she is spent, her left hand reaches to the man's face, dipping an index finger into a line of cum. She slowly feeds her finger to the man, and then withdraws it. The video ends. 

Alex turns off the computer screen. He feels somewhat grateful that the video did not feature Alex himself. But Alex feels an almost desperate urge to masturbate. He feels certain that Miss Becca is watching him, somewhere behind a desk enjoying his torment, and he knows he cannot risk it. Not merely because of her prohibition on masturbation, but because he does not want to show her what a turn-on that video was, that her games are having that kind of effect. Alex returns to the kitchen and pours himself a shot of vodka, gulping it down. 

It takes Alex some time to settle himself, but eventually he manages to return to his book and get his mind off the video. He is grateful to wake up sometime after midnight, having fallen asleep in his leather chair. Moving to the bedroom, Alex removes his jeans and sweatshirt. Wearing only his panties, he settles into bed. 

The next morning, Alex gets in another run, washes his panties, and arrives at the office. Alex quickly shuts his office door and checks the drawer of his desk to look for the journal. He finds himself strangely disappointed that Miss Becca has not returned it. Wanting to appear normal in case Miss Becca is watching, he turns to his computer and begins working. Around 10:30 a.m., Alex picks up the phone and calls one of the firm's office assistants, Olivia Carson. He asks her to bring the file for an office building his firm is designing. 

Olivia walks into Alex's office and gives him a smile. "Good morning, Boss," she intones with a sweet, almost too cheery inflection for a Monday morning. Olivia, who is 27-years-old, has worked at the firm for two years. Olivia has served as Alex's primary assistant for most of that time, and Alex likes her a great deal. She is smart and capable, and it is a bonus that she is also incredibly attractive. 

This morning, the first cool fall morning of the year, Olivia has dressed the part. She is wearing a brown plaid skirt with a mustard colored sweater, her long blonde hair falling over her shoulders. The sweater is tight enough to perfectly frame her full breasts. Olivia also has on tall, light brown boots, and Alex can see she is wearing darker brown tights from the few inches of knee and leg showing between her skirt and boots. Olivia is a vision this morning, and Alex smiles back at her, in part because he knows she is fucking with him by calling him "Boss," a term she started using not long after she started. 

Despite the rules against such things, Alex had flirted with Olivia at the beginning. Having a charming and likeable personality, Olivia had flirted back a little, and Alex had hopes of getting somewhere with this girl. Those thoughts were dashed at the firm Christmas party however when Olivia showed up with an equally attractive date who also happened to be a beautiful woman. When he saw Olivia making out with the woman after a few drinks, the conclusion that she was a lesbian was inescapable. The next day at work, Olivia gave Alex a sly grin and began calling him "Boss," knowing she had ended his plans of conquest. The attempt at conquest was over, but the nickname stuck. 




A Book of Letters Ch. 03



Alex looked Olivia over as she stood there with the requested file, considering one last time whether he could trust her. Alex knew Olivia did not drive an Acura, but that did not really mean much at this point. Alex decided he had to chance it, so he told Olivia that he was going to work on the file, and he would call her later to pick it back up. Alex carried the file with him to a conference room, along with a pad of paper. It was not unusual for Alex to work in the conference room to spread out with schematics, so he hoped Miss Becca would have no reason to find this unusual if she were watching. He could not take the chance of staying in his office, where he knew he was being watched. 

Reaching the conference room, Alex spread some drawings out and began writing on his pad, periodically looking back at the drawings as if he were studying them. He composed a letter to Olivia, which read: 

"Olivia, I know this is going to seem really strange. But, I need for you to do something for me. I also need you to do it from home tonight. This is very important. You cannot do it at the office, and you cannot use the office computers. You cannot e-mail me about this, and I cannot e-mail you. You also cannot talk about it with anyone, or call me about it or discuss it with me. I cannot explain all of this now, but it is really important that you not discuss this with anyone or send anything over e-mail. I also need you to shred this letter after you read it. I promise I will explain all of this eventually, and I promise I am not asking you to do anything illegal or inappropriate. It is just a personal matter I have to attend to, and I need your help doing it. 

I need you to look up pictures of every model year of the Acura car, from the beginning of when the manufacturer started making them until now. Every single one, and I need you to print the pictures out for me, making sure the model year for each of them is identified. Please don't miss any. Tomorrow, please put them in this same file, and return the file to me. Again, I cannot tell you how important it is to keep this quiet. Thank you, Olivia, and I will make this up to you." 

About an hour later, Alex returned to his office and called Olivia to pick up the file. When she arrived, Alex handed her the file and said, "Make sure you give that top drawing to Rich later today; he needs to review it too." Olivia responded, "Okay, Boss," and left the room. It was now out of his hands, and he returned to his work. 

Around 5:00 p.m., Olivia came by Alex's office. She stood outside the door for a moment, giving him an odd look, and Alex feared she was about to say something. All she said, however, was, "See you tomorrow, Boss." Alex breathed a sigh of relief. 30 minutes later, Alex packed his briefcase and went home. 

Alex entered his apartment and headed straight for the master bedroom to change out of his suit. When he opened the bedroom door, Alex stopped in his tracks. "You fucking bitch," he whispered to himself. Alex quickly walked back through his living room and toured the house, opening closet doors, looking anywhere she might be hiding. Satisfied he was alone, Alex returned to the bedroom and approached the bed. 

Neatly laid out on the bed were six pairs of panties, presented like a lingerie display table in a high-end department store. The panties were various colors and materials. Red satin, with a black lace waistband, a heart in the center of the band. Black, silky boyshorts. Blue lace hip-huggers. A pair in ruffled yellow, like a short little mini-skirt with a crotch. A leopard print panty, with smooth black edges. The last one, not much of anything at all, a purple g-string, crotchless, with a sparkling butterfly holding the strings together in the center. 

At the end of this display, another pair of panties sitting alone, these pink. Just above the panties on the bed was a matching pink bra, the cups fairly small. Alex picked up the pink panties. They were soft, satiny, low cut, with a small ribbon at the top, and a lace waistband, also pink but slightly darker. The bra had a matching ribbon between the cups. The bra was all lace except for the straps and the ribbon. 

Still holding the pink panties, Alex looked to the journal, waiting for him in the middle of his bed, the pink ribbon tied prettily. He sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the journal, laying the panties on his lap. Alex untied the ribbon and opened the journal, turning to the new letter Miss Becca had written him. 

Hi, Alex! Are you ready for your first grade? I hate to be so unforgiving with your first marks, but you get a C- for that first paper of yours. A little below average and a little disappointing I have to say, Alex. 

I am disappointed because I told you to have patience, Alex. Still you got pushy by asking questions about me. I will tell you exactly what you need to know when I am ready for you to know it! Do not ask me again. Students who disappoint me earn punishments, and you Alex, have earned one. 

But before we talk more about your punishment, let's talk about your new pretties I left for you. Don't you love them, Alex?! I can't wait to see you in all of them! 

I have a little job for you before you go to bed tonight. I want you to clean out your second dresser drawer that contains all of your boring boxer shorts. I want you to stuff them in a trash bag and bring them to work tomorrow. You will put the bag in the corner of your office and leave them. I will pick them up sometime and put them where they belong, in a landfill. Only pretty things will be going in that dresser drawer now. More importantly, you will only be wearing pretty panties from now on! 

One more job tonight Alex, and then we can get to the fun. Get on your computer and go to the in-home grocery delivery website I have left on your e-mail. Stock up, Alex. Whatever you need. This is how you will be shopping. I am just not ready to trust you at the grocery store, and I don't want you wasting away. I can keep better track of your eating habits this way. You could lose a few pounds, of course, but not too many! 

So, let's talk about your punishment for just a minute. You will find a typed letter in the back of the journal. This letter is in the mail right now, on its way to your partner Rich, special delivery. The letter and a pair of white lace panties that is, just like the ones you are wearing! Alex, you simply must learn your lessons, and your pushy questions will not help you learn them. I have a new word for you, Alex, focus. You must focus on the task at hand! 

Let's focus for a minute on some fun, shall we Alex. I picked out all of these panties just for you. I know you will look pretty in them. The most special pair, my favorites, are the pink ones. And because I liked them so much I could not resist getting the matching bra for you. The cups are just your size, Alex! Not too big, and I think it will work perfectly for you to wear to work under your shirts, don't you? It's time to try them on. 

Alex, I want you to slip into your pretty pink panties. While your little cock is straining against the panties, I want you to go to the bathroom and shave your chest. I just don't think the bra will look right with your curly hair poking through. After you are nice and smooth, put your new bra on. I want to see you in you all pretty in pink! 

And then, Alex, you simply must do something for me. You must cum for Miss Becca. You must cum while wearing your pink panties and bra. How long has it been since you last came, three days now? I'll bet you are ready for a little release, Alex. In fact, I know you are. I mean, you have been dreaming about sucking Veronica's cock! That was super hot, by the way. Miss Becca creamed herself a little reading it. Oh, and Alex, don't be such a homophobe. I know you're not gay, but that does not mean you don't want a little taste of a smooth cock, now does it? 

I know you want to cum for me. But if not for me, well, cum for yourself Alex. It is only going to get harder from here. (Pun intended). 

Finally, Alex, in case there is any doubt left in your sharp mind. You will be wearing panties every day now. You must continue washing them by hand. You will wear the bra tonight, while you pleasure yourself and you will wear it to bed. You will wear it to work tomorrow, and then after that, we will see. 

And, there is one more word I am going to teach you tonight. That word is trust. I want you to trust me, Alex. If you follow my rules, you have nothing to fear. To demonstrate that trust, I am not going to watch you make yourself cum tonight, Alex. I promise. I could, and I really, really want to. I want to see how much you like my presents. I want to see how hot they make you, and how much sweet cream you can produce for me. I want to see it, Alex, your hand stroking your hard cock, with your panties pushed down, my little student getting his first orgasm under my teaching. But, I'm not going to watch, Alex. 

Instead, I want you to tell me about it in your next letter. Every detail, Alex! How you touched yourself. Were you touching your panties too while you jerked off? Did you like the smoothness on your legs while they were pushed down around your hips? Or did you keep them half pulled up, so they could rub against your balls, the silk driving you wild? Did the bra against your chest feel good, Alex? How much cum did you shoot out of your hard cock? Did you make a mess on your new panties? Did it shoot up onto your lacy bra? Yes, Alex, you must tell Miss Becca everything! When you are done with the letter, put the book back in your office desk before you leave work tomorrow. I hope you can get a better grade next time. 

Your teacher, Miss Becca. 

Alex looked in the back of the journal, finding the typed letter Miss Becca had referenced. It was simple and short, addressed to his partner Rich at his home. 

Rich, your daughter Veronica is a sweet little fuck. She's a bit of a whore, but I like that in a girl. Here are the panties she was wearing the last time I fucked her. Sorry about the blood stains. You might want to have her mom wash them and send them back to her at school. I want them clean the next time I take them off of her. Sincerely, Your Pal. 

Alex was angry. He did not feel much doubt that Miss Becca had sent that letter. For the first time since Friday night, Alex felt legitimate fear again. And, he felt violated by the additional intrusion into his home. 

But what Alex was most angry about was how turned on he felt. His cock was as hard as it had ever been, straining against his white lace panties. He wanted to try on his new pink panties. He liked the feel of them in his hand. Strangely, he wanted to wear his new bra. And, he needed to cum while wearing them, not for Miss Becca, but for himself.